


The Reality You Live In

by platinumtrickster



Category: Pokemon
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtrickster/pseuds/platinumtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting kicked out the house gave you your first real taste of reality. [A flashback to a small memory in Cyrus' past.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reality You Live In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr roleplay ask prompt revolving around dark memories involving your muse. This prompt was originally suggested by colmofdualum for the blog aworldwithoutspirit.

Getting kicked out of the house gave you your first real taste of reality.

Subjecting yourself to near complete isolation had warped your views of reality. You’d been like this for a long time. When you were fourteen you could no longer stand the presence of others, parents or otherwise. People made you sick. Your parents were angry at this isolation at first, feeling betrayed by your seemingly disrespect and disregard for everything they’d done for you, though quickly resigning to believe it was simply a phase. It could have been a phase if you had found some friend, or if your parents (or you) had made any move to patch things up between you. But no, nothing happened. Nothing made you want to talk to others again. Whatever limited interaction you had with parents and teachers was all you had. You were satisfied with such things. It was all you could bear for the time being.

Eventually, you graduated high school, and with relative ease. You had always been good with academics. You’d skipped two grades and were graduating early. You were proud of such achievements, though never seeing the point. You had made no move to enroll in a college of any kind. After an exhausting graduation, you climbed up to your room and stayed there, occasionally coming out for meals when you felt hungry. You stayed there with your thoughts and the book collection you had slowly amassed over the years. You were satisfied with such things. Reality had not made itself known to you just yet.

A few weeks after you turned eighteen, your mother decided you had to go. She came up to your room about thirty minutes after you’d come down to find lunch. She didn’t knock when she entered. She never did. You were sitting on your bed, reading as usual. You barely notice when she enters, and the only thing you do to indicate you acknowledge her presence is when you briefly look up to her. She shuts the door behind her and stands there, in the corner of his room, keeping her distance. She seems unsure of how to approach you. She was never quite good with that, even when you were more responsive to others. You suppose you’ll be the one to initiate this conversation.

Perhaps a bit ruder than intended, you say, “To what do I owe the honour?”

She sighs heavily, brushing away the stray hairs from her forehead. “Cyrus, we’ve dealt with your distance long enough. You have to make a decision today.”

Oh, you hated making decisions. They terrified you to no end. Too many variables for every situation. You dog-ear the page you’re at in your book and shut it, finally looking up and giving her your absolute attention. She seems somewhat relieved at that. She awaits a reply from you.

"…What kind of decision?"

She sighs again, approaching you slowly before sitting down on the opposite side of your bed. You cross your legs, scooting back a few inches when she tries to touch your knee. She grimaces then, hesitating to continue.

"You know your father and I love you," she begins. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Nothing was ever good enough for them, and it never seemed like they loved you. They loved your grades, mostly. "…Cyrus, you can’t just stay in your room forever. You have to go out in the world and start your own life. You’re eighteen years old now. You’re an adult and you need to start acting like one." She pauses to study your face. It reveals nothing, though you’re starting to feel sick with worry.

"We’re very disappointed in how you’ve been acting. We’ve talked it over and now we have to act before it’s too late. You either have to enroll in a college—" You open your mouth to argue but she hushes you with a sharp look. "You have to enroll in a college soon, or we will no longer allow you to live here."

Your throat feels dry. Words stick to it as you gape at her, trying to speak. It’s upsetting, but something you should have expected. You feel stupid now. Your mother grows impatient, so she speaks again.

"Do you understand?"

You still search for words. At least this was a yes or no question, s you can answer even without words. You nod weakly, averting your gaze from her. She stands up, heading towards the door again. She opens it, but remains standing in the doorway. She looks back to you.

"I’ll give you till tonight to choose. If you don’t, then tomorrow morning you’ll pack up and you’ll leave."

Without any further words, she leaves your room, slamming the door. You jump at the violent sound, though settling quickly. You sit there in complete silence for some minutes, doing absolutely nothing. Oh Arceus, she was right. You couldn’t possibly expect to live your entire life like this. But the thought of going out into the world— having to live amongst people— was still a frightening thought. You begin to rack your brain. If you go to college, you have to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. What could you even do? What were you good at besides being a good student?

Nothing. You had done nothing with your life in the years where it was critical to discover a talent or a hobby of some kind that could one day become a full-on profession. All you did was read and be alone. There was no job for that. This lack of preparation or care made you feel completely idiotic. The logical choice was to choose college, but there would be nothing for you there. You gave up, and push the thoughts out of your mind.

You don’t eat that night. If you left your room your parents would ask you about the choice. You would have nothing to tell them. You spend the rest of the night laying on your bed in complete silence. You do nothing, the thing you’re absolutely best at.

In the morning, your mother wakes you up at 7 a.m. You can barely sit up in your bed before she gives you an empty suitcase. She points to your dresser.

"Pack," she growls, before she leaves the room. Your father is standing in the doorway. He looks endlessly disappointed as you start packing your things. You give him a pleading look. You need more time. You need much more time. He merely shrugs and shakes his head before walking away. You pack as slowly as possible. After an hour of slow packing, you get dressed, which takes another fifteen minutes. You cautiously go down the stairs now, where your parents are waiting. Your mother offers you a hug. You refuse it.

"We’re so sorry, Cyrus," your father says as he opens the front door, "but this really is for the best."

You don’t even acknowledge him before stepping onto the front porch. The door shuts and locks behind you. In just a few days, reality had come and slapped you straight across the face. You walk down the street. You pass by someone who seems to have seen you get removed from your home. They give you a sympathetic look— something you only see out of the corner of your eye. Your suitcase feels incredibly heavy, though you packed lightly. You sit down on a nearby bench to take a break. You haven’t even walked a mile and you’re exhausted, though that may be because you feel completely emotionally drained.

Your mind doesn’t function properly. You can’t think of anywhere in the world you could go now. You sit on that bench for an eternity, or so it feels. You don’t know how long it is because you completely shut down after a while. You don’t want to get up. You can’t get up.

You have completely given up.


End file.
